


Human Mistakes

by jumble_of_fandoms



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol dependence, Angst, M/M, Seacon coda, depressive state, twitter picture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumble_of_fandoms/pseuds/jumble_of_fandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha knew he should have checked that photo more, but now it's too late. Not only is he having to deal with the pressures of being at a con, he is now having to see all of the hate and malice being thrown his way. He also fears how Jensen will react when he finds out, and decides to lock himself in his room with a cheap bottle of whiskey to drown his fears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> I obviously have no idea how Jensen really felt about the picture, but I am also not happy about all the hate being sent Misha's way over it. Just a little Cockles to make me feel better.

Misha sighs heavily as he closes the hotel room door behind him. Leaning his tall frame up against it, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small device that has been torturing him for two days now. The screen lights up as he presses the home button, but he refrains from unlocking it.

_You should know better than to do that!_

_You're disgusting and I hope you rot in a pit somewhere!!_

He glances down at the screen and takes in the picture that is set as his lock screen. The usual smile that comes to his lips easily when he does this remains aloof and he feels his heart sink at the sight. It's the picture from set a few weeks ago; Jensen's arm is slung around his shoulders and they are watching the sunset over a beautiful lake somewhere. He tries to remember the fond parts about that day, but he cannot get his thoughts to leave him alone.

_He deserves better; the show deserves better you perv!_

_How could you post something like that! I thought you were better than this..._

He feels his hand curl around the phone, fingers digging into the smooth surface. Misha closes his eyes tightly and hurls it across the room, not even registering the _THUD_ it makes as it hit a table or wall. His body starts to slide down the door, knees pulling up towards his chest, hands going to his hair. He runs his fingers through the strands and curls his hands into fists around them, pulling hard.

_I will never watch this show again because of you!_

_You are a horrible person and don't deserve to be on this show, they could do so much better without you!_

His body starts to shake as the thoughts continue to swirl around his mind, never leaving him alone. He couldn't even enjoy being on stage earlier, having to pace around the room just to do something, to keep from going crazy in that room. He knew that almost everyone in there probably saw his mistake and were silently judging him. He was on edge the entire panel, waiting for someone to bring it up, waiting for the crowd to start ridiculing him the same way they were behind their computer screens.

When Misha had finally made it off the stage and out of the ball room, he brushed past everyone and ran to his room.

Sighing again, Misha tries to relax his fingers, finally pulling his hands away from his hand. He ignores the strands of hair that come loose and hangs his head between his knees.

A knock on the door startles him, but he does his best to remain silent, not wanting to deal with anyone again until absolutely necessary.

"Misha?" A voice calls and Misha holds back a response of 'go the fuck away' as he wraps his hands around the back of his head. A faint buzzing can be heard from somewhere in the room and he decides he needs to learn how to chuck things harder.

"Come on Mish, open the door."

Misha picks his head up quickly, shock etched into his face. It quickly turns to fear as the tone of the voice finally registers with him. There are only two people who he lets call him that and he knows for sure his mom is nowhere near Seattle, which leaves only...

Groaning, he stands up and walks across the room. Once there, he slides down that wall until he is back in the same position.

"Please, let me in man. Everyone's worried!"

Jensen's voice only grows louder and the knocks come more frequently. Misha bites his lip in order to keep himself from yelling at Jensen to go away, not wanting to face his friend after his mistake. He doesn't even know if Jensen knows about it yet, but if he does, he knows he is going to be pissed, even if Misha deleted that tweet.

"I know you're in there, people saw you walk in here you know."

 _Nosy bastards_ Misha grumbles to himself.

"You should know that I don't plan on leaving anytime soon."

Misha shakes his head even though no one can see. He doesn't care if Jensen leaves or stays, as long as he doesn't have to face him, and if that makes him a coward, so be it. He can't face his friend and see the hatred and anger behind his eyes. He can't lose Jensen and everything he means...

Hot tears slide down his face and land on his arms. Misha is breathing heavily, heart racing at the thought of no longer having Jensen in his life over one little mistake. He's human, dammit! Why does everything he does turn out this way? Why isn't he allowed to make mistakes? He isn't fucking perfect, and yet people are always expecting him to be...

Misha picks his head up and eyes the small cabinet under the TV stand that he knows holds a tiny fridge full of stuff he stocked it with earlier. He manages to scoot over to it without making much sound, listening as Jensen continues to plead with him to open the door. As he opens the cabinet and grabs the bottle of cheap whiskey he placed there earlier, he almost sighs in gratitude as Jensen says he is leaving. The concert is starting soon and Jensen always likes to listen from backstage, even if he doesn't always get on stage. He can hear footsteps fade away and he pulls himself from the floor, bottle in hand.

He climbs on the bed, leaning up against the head board, and pulls a pillow to his chest. Cracking open the bottle, he takes a long swig and feels the liquor burn its way down his throat. He hadn't tried this the night before because no matter what kind of mood he is in, going on stage hung over and dealing with fans is never a fun experience. Now that he is in his own room however, and has no other con things until the next afternoon, he plans on drowning himself in the amber liquid he holds in his hands.

The bottle is about a quarter of the way gone before his brain registers a slight *click* noise, followed by the sound of the handle on his room turning. Misha only takes another long pull on his whiskey, thinking that it is probably just some staff member checking up on him or wanting to ask him what he wants for dinner that night. Frankly, he could give a damn.

"You know you're just going to get majorly sick in the morning if you keep drinking that stuff like that."

The deep voice shocks Misha and he sputters around the whiskey he was in the process of swallowing. His body racks with coughs for a few seconds before he is able to look up at the one person he wants to stay far away from right now.

"What are you...How..?" He stammers.

Jensen flashes a room key at him. "Told the front desk I lost mine," He says before sitting down on the foot of the bed facing Misha. "Took me a bit getting back up here because of people wanting to talk of course, but, here I am."

Misha watches as Jensen reaches an arm out, waiting for Misha to do something. When Misha stays still, he reaches further and wraps his fingers around the neck of the bottle. Misha watches and he gently pulls the bottle out of his hand and sets it on the bed side table next to him. He holds out his other hand and places an object in Misha's hand.

"Must've dropped it, almost stepped on it coming in the room."

Misha looks down and sees his phone in his hand again. He feels his hand start to shake and tries to pull away from Jensen, but Jensen grabs on to his wrist.

"Hey, what's wrong Mish?" He asks softly, thumb stroking over the sensitive skin of Misha's wrist. Misha feels his hand tremble even more at the touch, wanting to pull himself away and curl into a ball.

He knows that as soon as Jensen finds out, that once he hears what happened, he is just going to push him away and he just can't lose him, doesn't know what he'll do without him. Why didn't he check the picture better? Why does he always just assume stuff like that when he knows that fans can get a little out of hand. Maybe he really is as stupid as everyone has been saying he is and really doesn't deserve to be on the show anymore, let alone be friends with Jensen anymore because how could he have let the tweet slip in and have millions of people see it and

"Hey, come back to me," Jensen whispers, breaking through Misha's mental spiral.

A hand cups his face and it takes a second before he realizes it is wiping away tears he hadn't realized he was shedding again.

"Please talk to me, Mish," Jensen tries his best to make eye contact, but Misha can't look into those trusting eyes, doesn't want to see the pain and anger that they will soon hold. "Tell me what's wrong, I'm worried about you..."

Misha feels his body shudder and he looks down at the phone still in his hands. The thought of pelting it away again enters his mind, but instead, he only unlocks it and pulls up his Twitter feed. Silently, and still avoiding his eyes, Misha hands Jensen the phone and waits for the pain.

A sharp intake of breath makes him jerk his hand away from Jensen, knowing that the yelling can't be too far behind. Jensen just continues to stay silent, scrolling down the page on Misha's feed. Misha risks a glance up and sees the fury in Jensen's eyes as they move from side to side, reading... something.

"What the hell..." Jensen rumbles, voice filled with anger.

Misha feels himself curling away from Jensen, wanting to grow smaller. He waits and waits, but Jensen only continues to read. Finally, the phone lands on the bed, face down, and Misha goes back to looking at his hands.

He can feel Jensen moving on the bed and expects him to stand up and walk out of the room, out of his life. Instead, he is suddenly enveloped in strong arms, a hand pressed against his back, another tangling in his hair. He is being pulled closer to Jensen and his face automatically buries itself into a warm neck.

"What is wrong with people," He hears Jensen say and his mind starts to whirl.

"What.. what are you talking about?" Misha asks, voice soft and far away even to his own ears.

"All those things that they were saying to you.. No wonder you ended up in here with a bottle of booze after having to entertain them for an hour."

Misha grows more confused as Jensen continues to talk about the tweets that were sent to him over his mistake. Finally, he pulls away from Jensen and gets the courage to look him in the eye.

"What the hell are you talking about, Jensen?" He demands.

"Um, those Tweet reply-things that everyone has been sending you?" Jensen replies, confusion making its way into his face.

"Didn't you see what the actual Tweet was that everyone had a problem with?" Misha demands, not enjoying having his emotions messed with.

Jensen huffs and places both of his hands on Misha's face, cupping a cheek in each one. "You think I care about some ma-nip people have made about me? Think I care that it got put out there for everyone to see?" His voice is laced with sarcasm at this last remark.

Misha feels his eyes grow wide and tries to wrap his head around what Jensen is telling him.

"It's just some silly photo that someone made. Not the worst I have seen, and most likely not the last," Jensen says, voice growing soft.

"But I shared it! I-I made some s-stupid mistake bec-cause I trusted-d people not to d-do something stupid!" Misha says, talking fast even as his chest heaves.

Jensen lets go of his face and Misha suddenly has the urge to pull Jensen closer, not wanting to let him go. Jensen moves from the bed and Misha's breathing becomes even more labored as his mind starts to tell him that the anger and yelling are coming, that Jensen will finally storm out of his life for good.

He jumps a bit as arms once again wrap around him, this time from behind. Instead of just staying there though, they haul him back on the bed, and pull him down. Instead of landing on the soft hotel pillows, he lands against a hard, warm chest, held tightly by the arms that are still wrapped around his middle. He leans his head back and finds that it rests just under Jensen's chin, and he tries to pull back, not wanting to get too used to this, knowing it isn't going to last, knowing that any minute now, Jensen's going to get up and leave-

"Will you shut up and relax?" Jensen murmurs into his ear.

Misha quiets down as he realizes that all of his thoughts were somehow heard and discovers that instead of thinking, he was speaking. He closes his mouth and lets himself be pulled back down against the younger man behind him.

"I'm not going anywhere, and if I was going to be pissed about something, it wouldn't be that." Jensen starts, leaning back more against the headboard. "I saw the other Tweets you retweeted in that time span, and it seems like you were just trying to have fun with the fans, right?"

"But I-"

"No, none of that. Only yes's and no's and if you can't manage that, only move your head, ok?"

Misha feels his head slowly nod as he resigns himself to listening to whatever Jensen has to say.

"So, you were trying to have fun, right?" Another nod prompts Jensen to continue. "And I'm guessing that the whole of that picture wasn't showing up and you were in a rush so you didn't click on it, right?"

Misha sighs, and nods, ashamed that he wasn't more careful.

"Then it was an honest mistake, yes?" A slow nod, and a hitch in Misha's breathing gains him a hand in his hair, stroking it back softly away from his forehead.

"Then quit worrying about it. You were having fun, made a small mistake, corrected said mistake, and now you just gotta move on." Jensen states, voice rumbling against Misha's back. "As for the people who have a problem with you making a mistake, fuck them."

Misha turns his head, looking up at Jensen. Green eyes flare back at him, concern and worry etched into every crease of his bright irises.

"Sure, they're fans of the show, but that doesn't give them the right to talk to you like that. You gotta stop letting it get to you so badly..." Jensen whispers, worry making his voice thick.

"I try so hard..." Misha says, voice soft. "No matter what I do though, there are still so many of them who will never like me..."

  
"And that's just how the world works, Mish," Jensen pulls Misha tighter against him and Misha feels himself snuggle down into the man. "You remember all the crap I got when we posted those sunset photos. Everyone gets it, you just have to shrug it off and look at the better stuff instead. You have so many people out there who love you and would do anything you asked of them. Focus on them, look past the others, and have a good time, yea?" Jensen asks, once again catching Misha's eye.

Misha stares back and finally feels his chest unconstrict. He reaches up and places a soft kiss under Jensen's chin, nuzzling softly into the warm skin. "You're right, I'm sorry I got so worked up about it."

"It's fine, Mish," Jensen says gently, a smile pulling at his lips. Misha feels his own finally split into a grin at the sight and feels his chest lighten.

"Good. Now, if you're going to get drunk, let's at least do it on the good stuff, alright?"

Misha feels himself laugh as he pulls away from Jensen. The two of them climb out of the bed and make their way down to the back area of the concert. On their way down, a fan spots them and stops, letting them pass through the door before she does.

"Hi!" She squeaks out.  
"Hey," Jensen replies, flashing his bright grin at her.

She looks up at Misha and he can feel his heart start to pound slightly.

"Wow!" She exclaims. "I just signed up for GISHWHES this morning, and now I'm getting to talk to you!"

"That's awesome, I'm glad you decided to join," Misha replies.

"Yea! I can't wait! Also," The fan's eyes drop slightly and Misha starts to feel himself worry again. He casts a quick look in Jensen's direction, but he is turned towards the door, listening to the music that is drifting past.

"I just wanted to say," The fan begins and Misha looks back at her. "Thank you for everything you do and for being an inspiration to so many of us. You have impacted my life in ways I could never express or repay."

Misha feels his eyes prick, but quickly pulls the fan in for a hug, squeezing her tightly. "Thank you," He whispers before pulling away.

A quick picture or two later, and the fan runs down the hall to the main entrance.

"See," Jensen says, suddenly behind Misha. "Positive side."

Misha smiles softly, looking down the hall at where the fan disappeared to.

"Ready to go in?" Jensen asks.

Misha nods his head and feels himself being pulled into the room behind the stage.

 _Tomorrow,_ he decides, _is going to be the best day of this weekend._ He smiles at the group of people he knows and loves, resigning himself to remember that he is only human and humans' make mistakes.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and appreciated :3


End file.
